


The Houseguest

by Wetislandinthenorthatlantic



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Awesome Molly, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Mollcroft, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Protective Mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-14 07:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5734378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wetislandinthenorthatlantic/pseuds/Wetislandinthenorthatlantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft's plane is cancelled and he ends up staying in Molly's guest room over Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Do you want a lift home?

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a Christmas AU prompt on Tumblr: Person A's plane is cancelled and Person B suggests staying with them over the Holidays.
> 
> Yea, I know it's now January but AO3 has been particularly moody in the past few weeks and only today have I found the time needed to sort it out. Enjoy!

 

December 22

In his wallet Mycroft Holmes had a Platinum Level British Airways card and a pass giving him access to every First Class lounge anywhere in the world. Sadly neither of these highly coveted objects could help him as he stared dejectedly at the Gatwick North Terminal departures board. All of the flights to North America and the Caribbean had been cancelled.

His plan to spend a quiet week at the Four Seasons on the tiny island of Nevis, far away from the frivolity of the holiday season and the cultural requirements of family time, was now quickly dissolving.

 

He knew shouting at the already weary check-in staff would be pointless. There weren’t any planes and no hissy-fit or threats from him would solve anything. Around him more passengers were arriving ready to jet off to friends and family only to find themselves in a similar situation and tensions in the terminal were beginning to rise. Ignoring the melee around him Mycroft continued focus on the departure board hoping a flash of inspiration would hit him.

"Hello Mycroft."

Startled by hearing his name he looked to his left- and down- to see his brothers' friend- what was her name again? Oh yes-- "Good morning Molly. Jetting off for the Holidays?" Mycroft forced a smile.

"Oh no, no, just dropped my mum off. She is off to my brother's house this year. He lives in New Zealand. Are you going somewhere nice?" Molly nodded to the smart wheeled carry on at Mycroft's side.

"Sadly, given the hurricane bearing down on my Caribbean destination and snow storm hitting the east coast of America it looks like I am going nowhere," replied Mycroft with a defeated tone.

"That's a shame, any idea when the weather is going to clear?"

"Two days if I believe the most positive reports," sighed Mycroft.

"Do you want a lift back home? I have my car." Molly offered.

"Thank you for your kind offer but returning home is not an option."

"Why?" chuckled Molly.

"It is my brother's turn to entertain our parents this year and 48 hours ago one of his “experiments” created a cloud of noxious gas which necessitated the evacuation of 221B as well as the houses on both sides,” explained Mycroft as he rolled his eyes. “The Council has condemned all three houses for at least a week until all the fumes have dissipated. He and my parents are spending the holidays at my house. Mummy runs a tight ship so I have no worries but I certainly do not want to be there.” Mycroft emphasised the last part of the sentence.

Hands shoved into her pockets Molly took a deep breath as she surveyed the man standing in front of her. "Well, I guess you could always come home with me," she offered with a shrug of her shoulders.

Mycroft stared at Molly for a few moments. He looked like he was seriously contemplating this idea.

"I mean, my guest room isn't much but it is quiet. Since I don't have any family around I'm going to spend most of my time working anyway so you'll have the flat almost all to yourself. I'm guessing you are more domesticated than Sherlock."

"Significantly," responded Mycroft dryly. Surveying the Terminal now heaving with disgruntled passengers Mycroft’s face relaxed, "Thank you very much. Given the options I shall take you up on your kind offer."

//

Molly was apologetic as she showed Mycroft around her modest flat. "Sorry. I’m sure you are used to much nicer accommodation." 

"I can assure you it is far superior to the floor of the check-in area at Gatwick."

The guest room in Molly’s flat was tastefully decorated in Scandinavian chic from IKEA. It contained a single bed pushed up against the wall, small bedside table with lamp, arm chair pushed into the corner and a compact armoire. Mycroft, much to his surprise, could feel himself relaxing. This unexpected option was turning out far better than the overpriced airport hotel room he had anticipated residing in for the next few days.

After showing Mycroft the kitchen, bathroom and giving him a set of towels Molly looked at her watch, and smiled at Mycroft as she put on her coat. “Well then, enjoy the rest of your day. TV remote in on the coffee table.” 

"Where are you going?"

“I’m off to work-- taken all the shifts no one wants."

"What time will you be home?"

"Midnight if I'm lucky,"

"That's 12 hours," exclaimed a shocked Mycroft. "How is that possible? You will be exhausted."

"Yea probably," nodded Molly, "I'm sort of used to Doctor's hours by now. I really have to go. Just text if you have any questions," she called over to her shoulder leaving a stunned Mycroft standing in her lounge.

//

 

Clearly anyone within a 5-mile radius of Bart’s had decided to have a medical emergency today just to make sure they had gotten it out of the way before Christmas. Molly had been working flat out since the moment she walked through the door of her lab two hours before. Just as she was finishing a set of blood works she was startled by her phone ringing in her pocket.

"Hello?" asked Molly hesitantly -- the phone screen read "Private Caller."

"What is your favourite sandwich?"

"What? Mycroft is that you?"

"Yes it is. I am standing in front of the chiller cabinet at Pret. What is your favourite sandwich?"

"You don't seem like a Pret sort of guy." commented Molly as two more nurses walked through into her lab, their hands full of tests that needed to be run.

"I am not. Listen to the question what is YOUR favourite sandwich." Molly could hear frustration creeping into Mycroft's voice.

By now both nurses were talking to Molly at the same time despite the phone held up to her ear. "Tuna and sweetcorn. Sorry, sorry, I have to go." Hanging up on Mycroft and slipping her phone back into her pocket Molly was plunged unceremoniously back into work.

//

Fifteen minutes later Mycroft appeared in front of Molly's desk holding a bag from Pret. He held it out to her simply saying. "I noticed you didn't eat before you departed for work, and if you had eaten breakfast prior to leaving for the airport that would have been at least six hours ago by now."

With a confused look on her face Molly took the bag suspiciously and peered inside. Seeing the tuna and sweetcorn filling through the cellophane window in the triangle pack she let out a moan filled with want. "Is this for me?"

Mycroft barely had time to reply “yes” as he watched Molly unceremoniously rip open the pack and begin consuming the first triangle of sandwich right before his eyes.

"Is that it? You're just going to sit here and eat?" frowned Mycroft.

"Oh my god," Molly stopped wide-eyes and mumbled with her mouth open. "I am so sorry. How much was it? My purse is in my locker I can go get it." She made to get up, her face flushed with embarrassment.

"No," scolded Mycroft. "Sit back down. I wasn't asking for money, it's just-" he hesitated, shifting nervously.

Molly looked at him expectantly, still ravenously devouring her sandwich. 

"When I notice Anthea hasn't eaten and I buy her food she always looks repulsed by whatever I choose-- even if I have seen her consume the same before. She then picks at it until I leave. Later I will find the wrapper in the rubbish bin. I'm never sure if she eats it or feeds it to one of the interns that are always hanging around." Mycroft looked genuinely upset by this. "And when I buy food for Sherlock he generally just ignores it completely, despite his growling stomach."

Shaking her head Molly shoved the last bit of sandwich in her already full mouth peering behind Mycroft at the three nurses impatiently waiting outside her office. “Not going to get any complaints from me,” mumbled Molly with a full mouth. “This was amazing and perfect timing. Sorry to eat and run but I’ve got to get back to work.”

Molly tossed her rubbish in the bin, flashed Mycroft a big smile and headed back to face the small crowd of nurses now waiting for her. Narrowing his eyes on Molly, Mycroft took a deep breath.

“Interesting,” he mused. “So unlike the usual people I deal with.”

//

By the time she arrived home Molly was exhausted. Opening her door she found a single lamp had been left on, creating a warm and welcoming feeling in her flat. For a fleeting moment she wondered if her houseguest was waiting up for her but she found the sitting room was empty.

 

On the table by the lamp she found a note: “Before you retire please provide me with a copy of your schedule for the days I am staying with you. –MH” He had even left a piece of paper and a pen. Retrieving a spare copy of her schedule from her bag she placed it under the pen, turned off the table lamp and got ready for bed.


	2. Sit. I'll make tea.

Dec 23

 

A very short six hours later Molly exited her bedroom, once again ready for work. Much to her surprise she found images from BBC News 24 were quietly illuminating her sitting room.

Hesitantly peering into the kitchen she found a barefooted Mycroft still in his robe and pyjamas. He had glasses on and was unshaven with a severe case of bedhead; clearly having just woken up. His eyes were barely open as he turned towards Molly handing her a steaming cup of milky tea.  “Your schedule in inhuman,” he said as he raised the back of his hand to his mouth to cover a yawn.

“I know. But like I said, I don’t have anyone waiting at home for me so it doesn’t matter,” shrugged Molly.

“Hardly a reasonable excuse.”

“Is this the pot calling the kettle black? asked Molly with a gleam in her eye.

“Most definitely,” grumbled Mycroft as he took a sip of tea from his own mug. He was leaning up against the counter his legs crossed at the ankles; Molly was sitting on the tall stool at the tiny table in her kitchen.  The two drank their cups of tea in a comfortable silence.

“Thanks for that,” said Molly before she downed the last half of her mug in two swallows, then put her empty mug in the sink. Mycroft winced and her ability to drink the hot liquid. “At least now I can face the pile of work that I know is waiting for me. Bye Mycroft. I’ll see you later.”

//

It was nearly two hours after her shift should have ended before Molly arrived home to find Mycroft sitting on the sofa reading a book.

Dressed in grey casual trousers and black cashmere jumper, glasses on, still unshaven, Molly saw a look a relief cross his face momentarily before his cool mask reappeared. 

“I thought your shift was due to end at 4pm. It is now just gone 6pm,” Mycroft glanced up from his book and tried to make this a casual observation but it was tinged with concern.

“I know,” sighed Molly, “but there were a few more tests to be run and Deborah needed to do some last minute shopping,” explained Molly with a shrug.

Mycroft rolled his eyes as he got up.  “Sit. I’ll make tea.”

With a sigh of relief Molly collapsed onto her sofa. “I thought you had a network of CCTV cameras covering London. From what Sherlock has said you track him all the time. I’m surprised you didn’t just look at my lab’s video feed if you were wondering where I was.”

“My brother embellishes,” answered Mycroft from the kitchen. “He forgets that years ago when he went to rehab he agreed to my surveilling him for his own good. Yes I have access to all CCTV cameras within the M25 but when I want to track a person without their knowledge a mountain of paperwork is required. I figured you would appear before I had completed even half of the necessary documents.”

“But you did contemplate it.”

“Of course,” replied Mycroft returning from the kitchen. He moved a coaster in front of Molly and placed her tea mug on it.   “Anthea is a wiz at those forms. Had she been available I would have watched you walk home and met you at the door with your tea,” explained Mycroft wistfully.

Taking a drink Molly tried to decide if this gesture would have been creepy or thoughtful. Despite everything Sherlock had told her about Mycroft she decided it would have actually been quite nice to be greeted in this way.  He was turning out to be not nearly as scary as she had been lead to believe.

“Have you told anyone you are here?” asked Molly as she pulled the blanket from the back of the sofa and draped it over herself.

“No.  I did ring Mummy and told her my plans changed but I would be returning home as expected. She thinks I am flying out tomorrow and I did nothing to change her mind.” Mycroft took a sip of his tea as he settled into the chair next to the couch. “There is no one else to tell. Anthea is at her mother’s house. And my driver, Walter, takes his holiday when I take mine.”

“No access to CCTV, no PA and no driver, you really are on holiday aren’t you?” by now Molly was yawing, as she put a pillow under her head and stretched out on her couch.

In mere moments Molly was softly snoring. Mycroft sat quietly drinking his tea watching her. When his cup was finished he took his empty cup into the kitchen then settled himself at the table with pen and paper and began making a list.

“ _I might be on holiday but I think I am going to be rather busy this week_ ,” thought Mycroft.


	3. Is this going to hurt?

Dec 24

After another early start (made more comfortable due to the cooked breakfast Mycroft had made her before she left) Molly arrived home just after lunch to an empty flat. With a yawn and a stretch she toed off her shoes and laid down on the couch, just to rest her eyes, before she made herself some lunch.

And hour later she was still napping on the couch when Mycroft arrived carrying four shopping bags full of food. His nose and ears were pink from the cold and his nose was running.

“Hello” said Molly sleepily from the couch. “Have you just walked with those bags from Waitrose? That’s miles away.”

“Yes.” Having hung up his coat and scarf he had already taken the bags into the kitchen.

“You could have caught a bus.” 

The only response to this suggestion was a loud snort mixed in with the sounds of groceries being put away.

“Do you need any help? You didn’t need to go food shopping I could have done it this afternoon.”

Mycroft appeared and handed a cup of tea to Molly who still hadn’t made it off the couch.

“Rest for you is more important than food shopping. It’s the least I can do.” Mycroft said over his shoulder as he returned to the kitchen.

Relaxing back into her couch Molly tried to feel guilty that the British Government was in her kitchen putting away groceries and making her cups of tea but she could only feel a warm fuzzy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Soon the comforting smells of tomato soup reached Molly. Returning to the lounge with a bowl of soup on a plate Mycroft set it on the table for Molly and pulled out the chair in front of it before he returned to the kitchen.

“When do you do traditionally do presents?” asked Mycroft from the kitchen. 

“My family does is tomorrow after lunch,” replied Molly between mouthfuls of soup. “You?”

“Depends on how tiresome Sherlock’s begging has been. Generally between lunch and the Queen’s Speech, but some years we don’t make it past breakfast.”   

Molly was still giggling and her vision of Sherlock pouting for his presents over breakfast when Mycroft appeared holding a small box of expensive chocolates tied with ribbons and a bow on top. He placed it under Molly’s tiny tree with the other two presents waiting there.  

“Oh Mycroft you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Of course I didn’t. It is only a small token – my equivalent of flowers from petrol the station.”

“But I’ve got nothing for you,” Molly looked genuinely upset and glanced out the window. “Maybe there is still time for me to pop out and get something,”

“Absolutely not. I need nothing. You have been more than generous with your hospitality,” Mycroft replied sternly as he pulled out a chair at the table and sat down with a slight wince.

“Your neck hurts,” frowned Molly.

“Yes, has done for years,” responded Mycroft slightly embarrassed Molly had noticed a chink in his otherwise steely armour.

“Turn your head towards me,” she commanded in her best doctor voice.

Seeing his limited movement Molly got up from the table and moved towards Mycroft standing behind him. “This is why you walk so stiffly,” she commented quietly almost to herself.

“I’m going to examine your neck,” placing her hands on his shoulders she felt him tense.

“Shhh, It’s okay,” Molly said reassuringly as she moved her thumbs along his collarbone and up his neck. She knew where the lump would be; making sure she was very gentle when she brushed it.

Inhaling sharply with a hiss Mycroft winced again.

“Ah, a prime case of pre-Karoshi”

“You mean the syndrome Japanese business men die from?” asked Mycroft anxiously.

“That’s the one. I have seen only a few cases at Bart’s but all victims had a huge knot in their upper spine right here,” as if to illustrate the point Molly touched Mycroft's neck again this time causing a small cry of pain to escape his lips before he could stop it.  “At some point I’m going to do a research paper in it.” The way Molly stated this fact simply and proudly made Mycroft hope he was not going to become a footnote in a pathologists research paper anytime soon.  

“You are in luck! I have found the perfect Christmas present for you-- and you don't even have to wait until tomorrow for it,” exclaimed Molly cheerfully. “Your pain in the neck will soon be a thing of the past.”

“Exiling my brother to the Far East?” offered Mycroft hopefully.

“Ha, ha very funny,” said Molly rolling her eyes. “Nothing I can do about that pain in the neck. Don’t move. I just have to get a hot water bottle ready for after your neck massage.”

“Is this going to hurt as much as I think it is?” called Mycroft nervously. Molly was already busting about her flat organizing supplies.

“Oh yes most defiantly. You really should take better care of yourself Mycroft,” scolded Molly as she headed into the kitchen with an ice pack in one hand and a hot water bottle in the other.


	4. On or behind the couch?

Dec 25

As she stepped out of the employee entrance of Bart’s Molly frowned into the drizzle, pulled her coat collar tighter and pushed her shoulders up in hopes of protecting herself from the weather. Bracing herself she turned into the wind to head home.

She was startled to hear “Hello Molly,” from Mycroft who had been loitering inconspicuously a few meters away his umbrella already open.  

“Hi Mycroft, So I guess you spent your morning doing paperwork?” teased Molly with a grin on her face.

Mycroft simply shrugged. “For good reason. You forgot your umbrella.”

“I never remember my umbrella,” replied Molly sheepishly rolling her eyes.

“I’ve noticed,” sighed Mycroft while sticking out his elbow as an invitation for her to join him under this umbrella.

“Thanks again for breakfast and for sending over lunch. It’s always tough working on Christmas Day but you managed to make it much more bearable.” Molly squeezed Mycroft’s arm. He buried his face in his scarf to hide his pleased smile. He was surprised by the warmth generated by her words.

 

//

 

Opening the door to Molly’s flat the pair were hit with a wall of heavenly smells.

“Oh, you’ve made Christmas Dinner!” moaned Molly inhaling deeply, swooning just inside the door. 

“Although I take into account the slight overrun in your schedule, as always seems to happen,” Mycroft’s tone was slightly scolding “you are now late my dear. There is only time for a shower, not the long bath I was hoping you would have,” instructed Mycroft as he took Molly’s coat and hung it up.

Wondering into her sitting room Molly was stunned; Mycroft had taken her two strands of lights and re-strung them around the room making a lovely atmosphere. The smells coming from the kitchen were heavenly and the table was set with candles and crackers ready for dinner. This was the most festive her flat had ever felt at Christmas time.  

“Come, come get going,” urged Mycroft. Appearing from the kitchen he was putting on an apron.  “Mummy usually insists we dress formally for dinner but I will make an exception  this year he,” said looking down his nose at her trying to give her a stern look and failing. “We need to be finished before Dr. Who starts.”

 

//

 

Dinner had been eaten and cleared away leaving the pair full and relaxed.

“Dr Who is about to start. Do you sit on your sofa or behind it?” asked Mycroft teasingly.

“Since you’re here to protect me I will sit on it,” replied Molly with a cheeky grin, “But you have to sit close to me in case there are Cybermen.  Cybermen give me nightmares!”

Mycroft sat in the middle of the sofa and put his arm along the back so Molly could tuck herself into him if necessary—he didn’t want to be so bold as to put his arm around her.

After a full evening of tug on the heart stings telly – Dr Who, Strictly Come Dancing, Call the Midwife and Downton Abby both were exhausted and more than a little emotional.

Sniffling and drying her tears Molly sat up to grab another tissue before tucking herself back into Mycroft’s embrace earning a slight squeeze. “I’m impressed you sat through all of that. I was sure you would have scurried off to read your book as soon as Call the Midwife came on.”

“No trouble whatsoever,” replied Mycroft casually. “Glad to provide a source of comfort.”

Truth was half-way through Dr Who, during the chase scene, Molly had curled into him.  His arm had unconsciously wrapped around her to protect the slightly nervous Molly and from that point on he could have been watching the Tuesday afternoon feed of BBC Parliament or a documentary on paint drying for all he cared.  The fact that the content of the evening’s TV shows were making her gently weep and snuggle into him was simply an added bonus. 

Her tears sufficiently stopped Molly took a deep breath, She looked up at Mycroft, “Thank you very much for a lovely evening. It was the best Christmas I have had since dad died.”

“I too, despite the casual dress, had a lovely evening,” responded Mycroft with a small smile to let Molly know he was teasing her. “I had forgotten what Christmas was like without the drama and antagonism of a certain brother.”

Quickly Molly kissed Mycroft’s cheek followed by a “Sleep well,” and a shy smile as she pushed herself off the couch and out of his embrace. Looking back over her shoulder nervously as she left the room she saw a completely stunned Mycroft left frozen on her couch.


	5. I can tell you are not asleep

December 26

 

Mycroft had woken up but had decided he didn't need to get up quite yet when he heard the door to his room slowly open and soft footsteps approach the bed. Watching through half-closed eyes he saw Molly, still in her robe, her long hair down, smile at him as she set a cup of tea on the bedside table.

“I can tell you are not asleep,” she whispered.

“How?” asked a sleepy Mycroft with his eyes still mostly closed.

“I’m a doctor. Your breathing pattern.”

“You don’t have work for two hours. Why are you up?”

“Mike rang. His in-laws are driving him crazy so he wants to take part of my shift today.”

“No wonder the NHS is in such a state. You people can’t keep to your schedules,” groused Mycroft.

“True, But is does mean we have a Boxing Day walk if we get going.”

“Lunch?”

“If we hurry and there is not too much booze involved. I have to go in later,”

“I’ll make a reservation.” Mycroft was already on his phone as Molly left his room.


	6. Figure it out James Bond

During her morning break a cup of coffee in a cup Molly didn’t recognize appeared with a note attached: “Have discovered there are at least a dozen coffee shops within three minute walk of Barts. Let’s find the best one.” and a score out of 5 for Mycroft’s usual double shot macchiato.

Taking a sip of the hot drink Molly thought a moment and then pulled out her phone and sent a text “3/5 – rough aftertaste.” “Noted.” Came the quick reply.

 

//

 

“Any special request for dinner?” asked Mycroft as he watched Molly in her lab from the video feed on his laptop.

“Are you watching me right now?” Molly gave a small wave to the camera Sherlock had told her about months ago.

“Yes. Why?”

“Because the answer is right in front of you,” answered Molly with a sly smile that caused Mycroft’s heart to beat faster.

“What do you mean?”

“Figure it out James Bond. Gotta run. Good luck!” Molly hung up the phone and he watched as another doctor walked in with an open file folder and began to discuss its contents with her.

Mycroft frowned; his eyes scanning Molly’s lab. He let the smile appear on his face; he loved puzzles. After a few moments his gaze settled on the large whiteboard that hung behind Molly’s desk. This is where she kept track of the progress of various experiments and a check list of what needed to be done and – ah! There it was!

'Oh you clever girl,' whispered Mycroft as he lent closer to the screen to get a good look.

In fairness it was a very rudimentary—the periods and dashes spelling out letters in Morse code  Once found it was deciphered in seconds but still—Mycroft sat back and enjoyed the warmth he felt in his chest knowing the Molly had at least tried to provide him with some amusement today.

SMS: Thai take-way it is. I’ll order when you leave work.- MH

SMS: See, you are the smart one! xx --Molly

Mycroft spent most of the afternoon lying on the sofa with a grin on his face. 

 

//

The next few days were filled with coffees and codes, take-aways, and evenings spent in front of the telly.  There were no more kisses after the one Molly planted on Mycroft on Christmas Eve but things between the pair did ever-so-slightly change.

Mycroft allowed his hand to linger on Molly’s shoulders when he helped her on with her coat. Molly no longer looked quickly away when Mycroft looked up after feeling her gaze upon him when he was doing some mundane domestic task like re-folding the tea towels so they all matched.

Silently both had begun to count down the days left in Mycroft’s holiday.

 


	7. Home In Time For Lunch

December 30

Mycroft was lying in bed and didn't even bother to pretend to be asleep when Molly came in.

 _She looks a little bit sad. Exactly like how I feel_ , noted Mycroft as he watched Molly set a tea cup down on the side table and then sit in the chair. Molly let out a sigh as she looked at Mycroft’s bag now zipped up waiting.

“What time would your flight be arriving?”

“9:30am” replied Mycroft flatly.

Molly silently nodded. “Guess you’ll be back home for lunch.”

“Yes. My car is picking me up at Victoria Station at 11am”

“I’ve got to go get ready for work." Molly quickly got up with her head bowed and left her guestroom. 

 

//

 

“I’ll strip the sheets and put them in the wash before I go.” Mycroft was standing in the sitting room watching Molly collecting her things for work.

“Okay. Thanks," she answered simply.

“Thank you for opening your home to me Molly. I have had a very pleasant stay.”

“Keep doing the neck exercises I showed you. I don’t want to find you in my morgue anytime soon,” Molly said with a forced smile.

“I promise,” replied Mycroft quietly.

“When do you go back to work?”

“Tomorrow,” Mycroft’s eyes were dipped and he replied with a sigh.

“Oh okay. Umm-well- thanks for everything this week Mycroft. It was really helpful and turned out to be a lot of fun,” said Molly. “Maybe I’ll see you around?” added Molly with a nervous shrug.

“Yes, should my schedule permit that would be lovely,” answered Mycroft. Molly couldn't tell if he was trying to be sincere or not.

Hands shoved in her pockets Molly gave Mycroft a quick uncomfortable smile then ducked out the door before Mycroft could do or say anything else.

 

//

 

Arriving home at exactly 11:59am Mycroft left his case at the foot of the stairs and followed the sound of the shouting. His parents and Sherlock were in the large kitchen having a very heated debate on the movements of various Swiss watch manufacturers.

“Hello everyone,” Mycroft stepped through the kitchen door and greeted his assembled family.

“Oh my god,” gasped his mother, the cutlery she was carrying to the table clattered to the floor as her hands flew to her face in shock.

Sherlock had stopped in mid-sentence and was staring wide eyed and unblinking at his brother.

It was only his father that still retained the power of speech “Where in the world have you been,” he asked, his voice full of awe.

Mycroft stepped further into the room and opened the fridge to take out a bottle of sparkling water. He twisted the cap off and took a drink while his family remained frozen staring at him.

“I have been, as you all well know, on my usual holiday,” answered Mycroft simply.

“And I suggest you get back on that bloody plane,” exclaimed his mother.

“What are you on about,” frowned Mycroft.

“This is the best you have looked in years. Your shoulders have dropped about four inches. Eyes are bright. No extra pounds around your middle from over indulging, which will take you the better part of six weeks to work off. You are rested AND relaxed. No son, you certainly were NOT on your usual holiday,” corrected his mother.

Sherlock invaded Mycroft’s personal space and gave an audible loud sniff.

Narrowing his eyes Sherlock smirked. “You were not alone.”

Knowing his brother had easily picked up the residual feminine scent he had been living in for a week rather than deny it Mycroft chose his response carefully, “I was with a friend.”

‘You do not have friends brother mine,” replied Sherlock smugly.

“Perhaps I have found one.”

“Paid for one maybe.”

“Stop it both of you,” scolded Mrs Holmes “Whoever she is Mycroft I hope I get to meet her soon. She has done you a world of good and she deserves my thanks.”

“You will not be meeting her Mummy. It was a--,” Mycroft hesitated,  “holiday romance." He made a point not to make eye contact with Sherlock. “You know how those things go. It’s never the same once the holiday is over. One can never go back.”

Mycroft’s lips were pressed in a straight line to keep form saying anything else. It was his father who spotted that Mycroft’s eyes hinted at his true feelings. 

“You are right son. But there is always the option to go forward,” Signor Holmes said quietly to his son as he laid a hand on his arm.

Taking a deep breath and shaking his head Mycroft left the kitchen and went upstairs to unpack.

 

//

 

Later that day Mycroft stood in the drive and waved his family off. Returning back to his house and closing the door he breathed a sigh of relief.

After a week of unexpected companionship he was once again alone. He stood waiting for peace to wash over him. But it never came. He remained standing in his hall for a few long moments wondering why he felt so empty.

 

//

 

Molly had lived in her flat seven years and it had never seemed as empty as it did that night when she returned home from work.

On the fridge she found an index card under a magnet with all the notes Mycroft had kept about the local coffee shops. Another card listed all the places they had eaten and what they had ordered.

Swallowing hard Molly tried not to cry. She looked at the leftovers in the fridge and opted for bed and a sleeping pill instead.


	8. A More Convenient Location Is Needed

December 31

 

When Molly woke she could see a dull grey London day through the chink in her curtains. Once she remembered Mycroft was longer sleeping in her guest room her mood changed to match the weather.

 No work. No Mycroft. No real reason to for her to get out of bed at all today. After a long, deep stretch she rolled back over and closed her eyes, only to have them snap open again.

_There was someone in her flat._

Bloody perfect. A burglar decided to strike on her day off when she is alone. After a few moments sitting terrified listening to someone rattle around in her flat Molly picked up her phone, hands shaking, and rang Mycroft.

It went straight to voicemail.

Muttering a string of expletives about Mycroft Holmes, Molly steeled herself to face the intruder on her own. Slowly opening her bedroom door and peering into the hall she found no one in her sitting room but there certainly was someone in her kitchen. _And they were making bacon._

Slowly she walked down the hall to the kitchen and found Mycroft, clean shaven, ready for work save for his suit coat which was draped on one of the stools. He was standing at the hob, wearing an apron.

“Forgive me for not answering you call. I was in the middle of making sure your toast didn’t burn.”

Picking up two plates of food Mycroft turned around to face Molly who was desperately trying to keep her smile in check.

“So you’ve come over to scare me to death and make breakfast?” Molly picked up the two teas waiting on the counter and followed Mycroft the table.

“Frightening you was unintentional side-effect. Apologies. As for breakfast, I’m taking the helicopter to Chequers in an hour and I get horribly motion sick if I fly on an empty stomach,” explained Mycroft. “But that’s not the real reason I’m here.” Mycroft paused, the gaze of his blue eyes caused Molly’s stomach to do a back-flip.

“Tell me,” whispered Molly. Her heart was pounding in her chest so loudly she was sure Mycroft could hear it.  

“I have taken the liberty of scheduling an appointment for you today,” replied Mycroft enigmatically. “Best eat your breakfast. You have a busy day ahead. Anthea will be here in 20 minutes,” 

“You are not taking me to Chequers today are you?” All the colour drained from Molly’s face.

“No. Not today,” replied Mycroft with a small smile as he tucked into his breakfast.  

“Anthea is coming over? What am I going to do with your PA?”

“House hunting." Finishing his breakfast and putting his plate in the dishwasher Mycroft picked up a stack of glossy estate agent brochures and handed them to Molly. “Here is my long list.”

Molly, her mouth open in shock could only stare between the papers and Mycroft.

“I am a busy man and can not drive across London every day to make sure you have had a good breakfast before you go to work,” explained Mycroft indignantly. “Also, one could consider successful completion of my daily neck exercises as vital to national security. I must have supervision.”

“Of course,” answered Molly quietly

“It’s settled then. We must relocate to a more convenient location.”

“We. Relocate. Are you suggesting we move in together?”

“Obviously,” said Mycroft looking at his watch. “Keep eating. Anthea will be here is 17 minutes.”

Molly began munching on her toast as she eyed the nearest house brochure. 

"Oh. One more thing," Mycroft said as he retrieved his suit jacket from the kitchen.

"There's more?!" exclaimed Molly as she choked on her tea. 

“It’s New Years Eve. I have planned a quiet night in if that suits you.”

Molly could only nod between coughs.

“Good. The car will be here to collect you around 6pm. I suggest you pack a bag and plan on staying at my house through the weekend. You will be getting a text within the hour confirming that you haven’t been scheduled for work until Tuesday.”

Again Molly could only nod as she watched Mycroft slip on his coat.

“Have a wonderful day my dear, I look forward to reviewing your short list of houses later. I shall pass on your best wishes to the Prime Minister.”

 Mycroft kissed the top of her head and left. 

Looking at the clock on the wall Molly gobbled the last of her toast and drank her tea in one gulp. Anthea was due in 9 minutes and she still needed a shower.  

 


End file.
